


EarthForce Santa

by vjs2259



Series: B5 Christmas [10]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vjs2259/pseuds/vjs2259
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second 2013 Christmas story. Set very much pre-Season 1, this is a tale of Stephen Franklin as a boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	EarthForce Santa

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken liberties with Stephen's family, giving them names and personalities for a longer piece and using them again here. Here Teresa Franklin is a historian who has given her daughters the names of warriors and queens. Richard Franklin gave his son a family name; family and family traditions mean the world to him.

 

Major Richard Franklin sat on the round ottoman in front of the freshly cut pine tree that graced the Franklin's living room. His feet were tangled in masses of Christmas lights, the green cords snaking around his ankles, the colored bulbs brightly twinkling in their coils. He ran the cords through his large capable hands, checking for dim or dark bulbs. There were none this year, and he sighed in relief. Even with the new continual-light high efficiency bulbs, there was still usually one that had to be tracked down and replaced. His wife would notice, no matter how carefully he hid the errant bulb on the far side of the tree.

 

Sitting cross-legged among the lights was his only son Stephen. The boy was intent on disentangling the lights, taking seriously his father's admonition that Christmas lights were man's work. Sonja and Sophie were diving into the open boxes of ornaments, picking out various ones they remembered with shrieks and giggles of joy. The older girls were helping their mother in the kitchen, where the sweet smell of gingerbread and sugar poured out to combine with the fresh sharp scent of pine.

 

They had lived in this small squared off three bedroom house on the base for three years now. It was the only home that Stephen remembered. Sheba and Sigrid remembered three other bases they'd lived on and bragged about it incessantly. They remembered California, and Colorado, even Connecticut where Mom and Dad were married. Their mother bought one ornament each place they lived; just one, she always said, or they wouldn't have the strength to lug the boxes to the next assignment.

 

The tree was small, just about five feet tall. The two girls circled it, trying one ornament after another on the branches.

 

“You two stop that,” declared Richard. “You know the lights go on first. Put those down and await orders.”

 

“Yes sir!” both girls immediately. Sophie dropped a silver ball laced around with frosted trees, and lunged to catch it. It shattered in her hand, and she cried out in pain.

 

Richard caught her up in his arms and took her into the bathroom, calling out to his wife Teresa on the way, “She's all right, just a cut. I'll deal with it.”

 

Stephen had been startled by Sophie's cry but rose immediately and followed his father into the small green and white tiled bathroom. His sister's hand was bleeding freely and he watched as his father held it over the sink, letting cold water flow over the cut.

 

“Shouldn't you stop the bleeding, Dad?” he asked, holding on to his sister's free hand. She squeezed it tightly and her crying slowed.

 

“Best to let it bleed freely for a while,” said his father absently. “Get out small pieces of glass. Lessens the chance of infection.”

 

Sheba walked into the bathroom and put a box of plas-strips on the counter. “Mom had these in the kitchen.” She glanced at Sophie and Stephen. “The kids okay?”

 

“We're fine,” said Stephen. “Dad's fixing it.”

 

Sophie nodded emphatically from her perch on the edge of the bathroom sink. “Daddy can fix anything.”

 

Richard smiled briefly as he patted Sophie's hand dry with a thin white towel. “Does it hurt?” he asked, pressing gently to see if any microscopic pieces of glass remained. As she shook her head he opened a tube of multisporin and applied a dab of the cream to his daughter's palm. Picking up the tube, Stephen carefully replaced the cap and examined the tiny print on the side.

 

“This keeps the bad bugs from growing, right?” He picked up the box of plas-strips and pulled one out. “Do you want me to open this?”

 

“That would be a big help, son” replied Richard. Taking the thin strip of artificial skin from Stephen, he stretched it carefully over his daughter's palm and let it form a seal over the cut and the smear of antibiotic.

 

“How'd you learn to do that?” asked Stephen, fascinated, as his father lifted Sophie down and began to clean up the mess. Sophie was led off by Sheba to the kitchen to drown her sorrows in warm cookies.

 

“A good officer knows a little about every job in his division. My company medic is extremely good at his. I like to watch professionals in action.” Richard finished putting away the supplies, every thing in its place.

 

“You can do stuff like that in EarthForce?” asked Stephen, watching his father's every move.

 

“There are lots of things you can do in EarthForce,” responded Richard cautiously. He longed for his son to follow him into the force, but the boy had shown little interest so far. He never played soldiers, or wanted a toy gun, or even played strategic games.

 

The two of them wandered back into the living room and began to hang the lights on the tree. Sonja was watching a vid on the wall monitor. Cheerful characters danced across a snowy landscape while music played. Sophie was examining the stockings, fastened to the wall under a high window. “How does Santa get to every house?”

 

Sonja looked up from her movie with a worried face. “Will base security let him in, Dad? Will they shoot down the reindeer?”

 

Richard stepped back from the tree to examine his and Stephen's handiwork. He sat back down on the ottoman and scooped Sonja up onto his lap. “Of course not!” He swallowed her up in a bear hug, tickling her speechless. “EarthForce is part of Santa's team.”

 

Sophie's eyes were large as she looked over at her father. “Really?” she asked, with just a touch of skepticism.

 

“Oh yes,” replied Richard, setting Sonja back onto the floor. She was still giggling. “You see, back in the old days before EarthGov, we had NORAD. They tracked Santa, helping clear the airspace for his deliveries. He had to go across a lot of borders, back when there were hundreds of countries all over Earth.”

 

“And now?” asked Stephen, joining in the conversation.

 

“Now we don't have to clear a path, but we offer assistance where it's needed.” He heard his wife's low melodious laugh from the kitchen, but was afraid to look and see if she was listening to him or merely sharing a joke with their older daughters.

 

“You help Santa deliver presents?” asked Sophie, crossing the room to stand by her father.

 

“No, I'm a ground-pounder, squirt. You know that. The flyboys help out with deliveries. But we're all one team, you know.” He put an arm around her and pointed at the boxes on the floor. “Tree's all ready. You want to call your mom and sisters in to start decorating?” Sophie nodded and ran into the kitchen.

 

Richard looked over at Stephen, who had joined Sonja on the floor in front of the boxes. He looked up at his father. “A family is like a team, isn't it?”

 

“That's right,” said Richard. “Trees and cuts and cookies, EarthForce and Santa. We all work together to get the job done.”


End file.
